I am down two teeth.
Two really big, pretty disgusting teeth.
(I know this, because they were accidentally shown to me. Ugh. ... Honestly, why ANYONE wants to keep such a thing is beyond me, but apparently, some people do.)
Before I went into surgery, Inge-Lise (my friend who is the nurse at the oral surgeon's office) asked if I would want to keep them. As I shuddered in revulsion and said "Absolutely not", she turned to Jo (my other nurse friend, who happened to by my ride to and from the oral surgeon's office) and asked if she wanted them. Jo smiled and said "Yeah!".
Something about Halloween being just around the corner.
Insert eye roll and gag sound here. Who in the world would make a Halloween craft out of actual teeth? My grody nurse friends, that's who.
Anyway, I'm down two teeth. I'm swollen as all get-out. My pointy chin has all but disappeared, and my face is one giant one-dimensional piece of flesh.
You'll note that even my neck is swollen. I only had my bottom teeth pulled and, yet, I am puffy up to the top of my cheekbones. That little dimple over the right corner of my mouth is as close as I can get to smiling right now. (You should see me try to eat. It's hilarious, how small I have to cut food. Then I just shove it in and swallow. There is no chewing.)
As a little comparison/contrast, I give you a pic that was taken Sunday night:
A mere 72 hours ago, I had distinct cheekbones, a jawline and the ability to smile. ... Here's hoping that three-dimensional face will be back by the end of the week.
In the meantime, I am living on mashed potatoes and gravy, lemon yogurt and tepid hot chocolate while I console myself with the knowledge that at least I don't have permanent gauze sewn into my mouth. (You know, like I had it sewn into my bum last summer.)
With a little perspective, chubby cheeks and a swollen neck aren't that bad.